/  " 


I  M^i  am'i  Crue  in  llrformff  an&  Jleformer^, 


AN 


i 


ADDRESS 


nEI.IVERED    BEFORE  THE 


HISBETEON  LITERARY  SOCIEIT, 


o  P 


ELDERSRIDGE  ACADEMY, 


October  Ist,  1850, 


BY 


JAMES    B.    P.    ROBINSON,    ESa. 

OF  GREESSBURGH,  PA. 


PVBL.ISHGD  BY  BEQUEST. 


PITTSBURGH: 

PRIXTED  BY  SHRYOrK  t  HACKE,  CORNER  OF  WOOD  ANTD  THTRP  STREETS. 

1 8.')(). 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/falsetrueinreforOOrobiiala 


UCSB    LIBRARY 


THE 


FALSE  AND  TRUE 


IN 


EEFORMS  AND  EEFORMEES. 


The   Reforming  idea  may  be  said  to  be  one  of  the  distinguishing 
characteristics  of  the  human  race.     The  wish,  impetuous  often  in  its 
warmth,  conjoined  with  an  ability  to  carry  it  out,  to  break  away  from 
the  old,  whether  error  or  merely  something  indifferent,  and  take  hold 
of  and  embrace  the  new,    coming,  as  it   may,  with   blessed  gifts  for 
them,  is  a  controlling  impulse  in  human  hearts.     Man  is  ever  flying,  or, 
with  strong  effort,  attempting  to  fly  from  the  bad  and  unpleasant,  and 
instead  thereof  taking  to  him  the  better,  wherever  he  may  find  it.     This 
may  arise,  in  a  measure,  from  the  same  searching  and  curious  spirit  that  is 
forever  striving  to  discover  and  drag  to  light  the  hitherto  unknown  and 
hidden.     A  man,  any  one  of  men,  may  not  have  rest,  he  cannot  lie  down 
and  sleep,  if  some  recent  and  novel  brightness,  be  it  star  or  glow-worm, 
has  inspired  wonder  within  him.     At  least,  he  may  not  go  to  his  slumbers, 
before  that  strange  thing,  at  which  his  gaze  is  turned,  has  been  spoken  to 
by  him,  and  in  reply  has  taught  him  of  its  being  and  its  life.     If  he  put 
up    a  house  to  dwell  in,  (to  speak  of  the   lower  developments    of  the 
same  principle,)  it  must  be  a  better  one  than  the  old;  more  comfortable 
in  its  arrangement;  more  pleasant  in  its  site;  something  of  more  beauty 
for  the  gazer's  eye.     The  spirit  of  improvement  has  shown  itself  forth. 
Old  things  have  passed  away.     Here  man  differs  from  the  rest  of  the 
earthly  creations.     The  sparrow's  house  and  the  swallow's  nest,  that 
were  long  ago  found  upon  God's  altars,  amid   the  Judean  hills,    were 
quite  as  good  as  those  where  their  young  ones  nestle  now.     The  beaver 
builds  his  dam  and  clay  hut  now  where  the  Oregon  floods  pour  down; 
he  did  the  same  ages  ago,  when  this  earth  was   young.     Generation 
after  generation  of  these   lower  animals  come    and  go,  but,   neither 
individually   nor  in  the  mass,  can  they  be  distinguished,   fellow  from 
fellow,  or  age  from  age. 


4   ] 


But  it  is  not  so  much  of  all  this  that  we  would  speak  here.  It  is 
more  of  the  reforming  principle,  in  the  general  acceptation  of  the 
term.  Something  higher  than  what  is  seen  in  the  change  in  form  of  dead 
matter  only.  Not  the  improvement  merely,  that  gives  more  of  comfort 
and  heauty,  if  you  will,  to  the  habitations  of  men,  as  house  after  house 
goes  up;  that  lays  out  its  garden  spots,  and  gives  to  them  flowers  and 
pleasant  plants,  where  all  was  wild  and  uncultivated  before. 

In  these  years,  when  men  are  so  eager  in  their  search  for  something 
better;  so  restless  in  their  present  places,  when  any  cry  from  the 
seeming  and  would  be  pioneers  in  advancement  calls  them  to  come  up 
higher;  it  is  a  good  thing  to  examine  and  ascertain  whither,  if  we  do 
start  forth,  our  footsteps  may  carry  us.  It  is  good  for  our  safety  and 
happiness,  to  try  the  spirits  that  would  be  our  teachers,  and  if  they 
prove  false  and  not  true,  to  not  only  shrink  from  contact  with  them 
ourselves,  but  show  our  brothers  also  the  deception  and  have  them 
beware.  This  earthly  life  of  ours  has  not  too  many  years  in  its  sum 
total  at  longest,  that  we  should  chase  phantoms,  shadowy  and  unreal 
when  we  reach  forward  for  them;  we  have  no  days  to  waste  in 
experimenting  here,  if  this  can  be  at  all  avoided.  The  Reformer, 
then,  should  come  to  his  fellows  in  the  carrying  out  of  his  mission, 
with  such  tokens  of  his  being  Heaven-sent  shining  out  from  him,  that 
all  might  read  them  as  they  ran.  Then  would  there  be  no  lamenting 
of  disappointed  ones  along  the  way,  that  an  arch-deceiver  had  been 
leading  them  hitherto,  and  they  knew  it  not.  Then  would  every  step 
they  made,  every  mountain  height  they  scaled,  every  deep  and  black 
gorge  they  leaped  over,  every  wilderness  place,  with  its  savage  beasts, 
they  traversed,  bring  them  nearer  to  the  new  good  for  which  they  had 
desire.  There  would  be  no  stopping  to  calculate  the  chances  of  their 
going  backward  and  not  forward.  There  would  be  no  doubt  that  the 
light  their  feet  walked  by  was  a  true  one,  and  not  some  glimmering 
flame,  shining  for  a  time  and  then  dying  out  forever. 

And  who  can  rightly  estimate,  if  we  may  speak  of  this,  the  sadder 
view  of  the  thing  presented,  when  the  deceived  love  and  cherish  the 
errors  that  are  their  leaders;  when  they  sacrifice  their  all  upon  these 
Moloch  altars,  getting  no  smile  of  goodness  in  return,  and  yet  thinking 
the  work  they  do  is  God-bidden.  The  souls  of  these  men  have  a 
complete  and  total  infatuation  upon  them;  and  no  word  of  man  can  call 
them  back;  no  voice  from  human  lips,  saying  to  them  'Come  away, 
these  are  barren  mountains  and  desert  sands  that  your  bleeding  and 
torn  feet  are  pressing,' will  have  power  enough  to  make  them  turn  again. 
No  arm  on  this  earth  can  stretch  to  them  and  snatch  them  from  the 
ruin.  They  have  become  headstrong.  The  creed  of  their  faith  has 
become  a  passion  within  them.  A  strong  door  shuts  up  the  way  to 
their  reason,  and  thither  you  cannot  enter.     What  a  state  to  be  in ! 


f   5   ] 

Blind — yet  they  boastfully  cry  out,  our  vision  is  strong,  it  brings  us  in 
sights  from  afar.  Without  hearing — they  tell  us  of  strange  and  sweet 
music,  that  rings  evermore  in  their  ears  and  far  down  in  their  hearts. 
Tasteless — they  speak  of  luscious  fruits  and  nectarine  drinks,  which, 
from  time  to  time,  the  angels  give  them  to  feed  upon.  Senseless,  all 
and  throughout — they  think  the  world  besides  dead  and  being  carried 
to  the  burial;  and  would  have  the  bier  stop,  till  they  awaken  the  sleeping 
one,  and  give  him  of  their  life.  Here,  then,  may  we  gather  a  lesson. 
Such  truths  become  our  teachers.  If  there  be  in  human  breasts  that 
weakness  to  run  after  an  error  having  semblance  of  truth,  and  a 
rashness  and  impetuosity  there,  too,  that  make  the  first  choice  the 
unalterable  resolution  of  an  iron  will,  it  is  surely  good  to  preach  to  all 
men  that  in  this  matter  they  should  be  watchful  and  prayerful. 

We,  often  and  often,  are  deceived  by  a  too  great  reliance  upon  our 
own  bravery;  upon  our  own  mental  resources  and  wits,  in  the  difficult 
passages  of  life.  We  too  frequently  act  upon  an  impulse  and  not  upon 
a  reflection;  upon  a  first  thought  and  not  upon  a  second  or  a  third  one. 
And  thus  acting  upon  it,  that  impulse  will,  by  and  by,  be  as  strong  and 
firmly  foundationed  as  the  most  deliberate  decision  of  the  judgment. 
If  men  always  thought  before  they  worked;  if  they  studied  the  idea 
that  flashes  upon  them,  before  they  lay  it  away  in  memory  as  a  belief, 
forever,  and  before  they  shout  it  forth  from  the  high  places  as  one  of 
the  truths  that  the  wise  ones  of  the  past  long  waited  for,  but  never  saw; 
if  they  followed  not  so  blindly  and  wildly  the  new,  because  of  it8 
newness,  at  the  very  first  call  thereto,  this  life's  sea  would  be  a  far  less 
billowy  and  boisterous  one;  the  timbers  of  wrecked  ships,  and  the 
sailors'  bleaching  bones  would  not  be  strewn  along  its  shores  so  thickly. 
Oh,  if  Fancy  could  make  a  world  in  full  life,  as  she  has  many  a  time  in 
picture,  and  plant  upon  it  her  men  and  women  and  little  ones,  what  a 
thing  of  beauty  would  it  not  be,  shining  and  pure,  as  it  sailed,  like  a 
star  about  its  sun  !  What  strong  and  calm  minds,  and  what  great  and 
loving  hearts,  and  what  faces,  gleaming  like  an  angel's,  would  the 
people  not  be  gifted  withal ! 

But  we  must  not  let  imagination  be  our  guide  here.  We  have  a 
world,  tangibly  real,  upon  which  we  and  our  fellows  are  dwellers. 
When,  therefore,  we  go  out  thereon  to  talk  about  the  proprieties  of 
changes,  or  the  non-proprieties,  we  must  look  upon  men  as  they  are, 
and  not  as  we  would  have  them.  We  must  speak  to  them  with  an 
ever  fresh  remembrence  that  they,  the  taught,  and  we,  the  teachers, 
are  both  full  of  weaknesses  and  sins.  The  endeavor  should  be  to  have 
men  keep  their  minds  open  until  all  the  truth  about  any  proposition  has 
been  received  by  them,  and  then  call  upon  their  judgment  for  its 
decision.     In  such  case,  it  could  not  otherwise   happen  but  that  the 


[   6   ] 

conclusions  come  to  would  tend  infinitely  more  to  the  just  and  correct 
than  we  now  find  them. 

Coolness  in  the  hour  of  sudden  and  dangerous  exigency  has,  more 
than  once  in  every  man's  life,  proven  itself  his  salvation.  The  tempter, 
as  he  walks  through  the  world,  will  always  be  careful  in  the  distribution 
and  presentation  of  his  lures,  when  the  one  to  be  led  astray  is  sure  to 
be  found  watchful  and  on  his  guard.  Where  the  pace  of  the  sentinel  is 
heard  upon  the  castle  wall,  and  the  soldier  within  has  his  armor  about 
him,  whether  awake  or  asleep,  the  assailant  will  long  deliberate  before 
he  rushes  to  the  attack.  Now,  if  this  were  impressed  deeply  upon 
men's  minds,  namely,  that  they  must  never  receive  as  their  standing 
creed,  on  the  first  introduction,  too,  the  wild  views  of  things  that  meet 
them  at  every  turn,  the  seeming  Reformer  would  find  his  labor  but  an 
irksome  task,  and  the  fruits  thereof  not  worthy  to  be  gathered  home. 
Idol  and  image  may  he  set  up  in  some  Dura-plain,  and  call  upon  the 
multitudes  to  fall  down  and  worship  them,  but  their  one  response,  "we 
are  not  careful  to  answer  thee  in  this  matter,"  will  be  his  reply.  There 
would  then  be  far  less  wandering  after  vanities  and  trifles,  light  as  air. 
There  would  then  be  less  plucking  of  the  Dead  Sea  apple,  to  find 
when  the  tooth  has  pierced  it,  that  it  leaves  ashes  only  on  the  lip. 

We  may  here  notice  a  class  of  men,  made  up  of  numbers,  too,  that 
is  forever  babbling  of  change   and  Reform.     They  hate  and  despise 
the  old  merely  because  it  is  old;  because,  far  back,  other  hands  and 
other  minds  labored  in  its  construction.     Without  an  eye  to  see  anything 
wholly  new,  they   hesitate  not  to  inflict  their  changes   upon   the   old. 
They  tell  us,  this   old   plan  of  things  works  well   enough;  with   its 
performance  of  duty  we  have  no  controversy.    But  the  spirit  of  the 
age  demands  something  fresher;  something  that  smacks  not  so  much  of 
the  far  by-past  years.     The  men,  now-a-days,  are  on  the  run  in   their 
course.     Onward !    onward  !  is  the   cry  that  goes   up  from   all   lips. 
The  venerable,   and  the   solemn,  and  the  gi-and  of  the  gone  days;  the 
fondly  loved  and    cherished    of  their  fathers;  the  shrines  upon  which 
those  old  men  hung  their  garlands,  and  before  which  they  prayed;  this 
age  cares  not  for  these;  sheds  no  tear  as  its  foot  tramples  them;  makes 
bonfires  of  them,  and  with  shoutings  of  "the  new,   the  new,"  dances 
gleefully  about  them  as  they  burn.     This  is  the  appetite,  and  shall  we 
not  give  heed  to  its  cravings  for  food  1     Thitherward  is  the  rush  of  the 
people,  and  shall  we  not,  if  need  be,  cut  passages  for  them  through  the 
hills  ?     They  will   be   reaching  for  the  stars  presently,  we  know,  and 
when  that  day  comes  we  will   give  them  stars,  if  stars  are  to  be  had. 
Such  is  the  manner  of  excuse  these  men  will  give  you,  if  they  deem  it 
necessary  to  say  anything  in  vindication  of  themselves. 

But,  is  it  proper  to  thus  trifle  with  souls,   to  thus  fritter   away  and 
waste  time,  to  thus  encourage  men   to  leave  the  good  they  have,  and 


[    7   j 

feverishly  and  hurriedly  to  press  on  to  a  good  they  know  nothing  of] 
Is  it  a  good  thing  to  call  gray-haired  wisdom,  merely  because  of  his 
hoary  locks  and  his  tottering  footsteps,  foolish  and  vain  and  not  worthy 
of  belief?  Is  it  a  thing  for  happiness  and  life,  to  shut  up  forever  the 
Bible,  and  take  lessons  in  such  great  matters  from  these  runners  as 
they  fly]  Is  this  taste  of  men  that  you  would  forever  gratify,  always  a 
natural  and  holy  desire? ,  No,  no.  These  men,  however  much  they  may 
have  faith  in  their  own  sincerity  and  righteousness,  are  doing  sin.  Their 
striving  to  have  themselves  looked  upon  as  reformers,  as  workers  for 
the  good,  is  a  false  thing.  When  such  ones  come  to  you  to  make 
proselytes,  tell  them  that  you  cannot  go  with  them  in  this  seeming 
advance  after  good,  when,  indeed,  it  may  be  a  going  back  instead. 
You  will  do  well  to  be  conservative  here. 

This  sort  of  false  change  and  Reform  makes  itself  visible  frequently 
in  young  legislators.  Certainly  it  does  in  those  wishing  the  good 
opinion  of  their  fellow  men,  in  anticipation  of  some  legislative  day  yet 
to  come.  A  long  time  ago  the  wisest  and  the  best  were  the  lawmakers 
of  kingdoms  and  republics.  The  work  was  one  at  which  experience 
and  ability  toiled,  and  found  it  no  children's  frolic.  It  was  a  labor 
when  the  arm  of  the  stripling  was  too  weak  to  be  a  helper.  But  now, 
in  this  fast  age,  this  age  when  shows  and  phantasms  and  desert  mirages 
are  leading  men  away  on  all  sides,  the  legislator  whose  hobby  is  change, 
may  get  on  well  enough,  faster  and  further  than  his  betters.  There 
is  a  show  of  wisdom  about  him.  He  is  not  satisfied,  at  all  events, 
with  things  as  they  are.  He  would  do  something  to  hasten  on  the  good 
time  that  is  to  come.  A  shadowy  banner,  as  of  a  leader,  is  waving 
above  him,  and,  if  after  it  the  giddy,  and  the  idle,  and  the  thoughtless 
stumble  along,  it  is  enough.  The  show  is  still  there,  and  he  seems  to  be 
the  chieftain  of  an  embattled  host.  Alas  !  alas  !  That  in  this  world  the 
show  and  the  reality  are  so  often  confounded !  That  the  shadow  is  so 
frequently  knelt  down  to,  while  the  substance  to  which  prayer  is  made 
is  far  away  !  That  the  false  and  the  bad  man  can  so  easily  wrap 
himself  about  with  Truth's  garments,  and  laugh,  it  maybe,  that  no  one 
detects  the  counterfeit ! 

Again,  upon  a  wider  field  may  we  see  this  pursuit  after  what  is  false; 
false,  in  this  case,  because  the  change  sought  for  cannot  be  found.  In 
revolutionary  times,  when  the  change  struggled  for  has  a  nation  for  its 
subject,  the  thing  aimed  at  is  a  better  condition,  or  is  supposed  to  be, 
than  what  they  are  leaving  behind.  Then  there  are  troops  of  Reformers 
and  leaders,  who  promise  to  the  masses  many  and  blessed  things.  We 
have  ourselves  seen,  or  read  of  nations,  who,  in  their  wild  and  stormy 
pursuit  of  the  good  and  true,  as  they  supposed,  used  some  rallying  cry 
of  this  sort — "Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity."  Their  aims  were 
embodied  in   that   cry.     But  what   a  grasping  at  the  impossible  and 


[   8    ] 

unattainable  was  this  !  How  surely  were  these  men  lifting  up  a  hope, 
like  a  standard  to  be  gazed  at  and  fought  after,  that  the  enthralled  and 
enslaved  ones  could  never  realize,  even  when  the  chains  that  fettered 
them  were  gone  !  See  the  end  of  it.  Their  revolutionary  battles  have 
been  fought.  The  fields  where  the  fights  with  the  tyrants  came  off,  are 
yet  red  with  their  mingled  blood.  The  foot-falls  of  the  thrown  out 
lords  and  rulers  are  yet  heard  from  afar,  as  they  hurry  to  some  covert 
from  the  storm.  Peace  has  again  fluttered  down  to  earth,  and  that 
wearied  land  has  smiled  its  welcome  to  her  as  she  came.  And  yet, 
after  all,  they  have  not  won  the  prize  struggled  for  with  such  high 
anticipations  as  their  torn  and  dust-stained  flags  can  testify.  They  are 
not  brothers  all,  neither  are  they  all  equal,  each  man  wdth  his  fellow. 
They  aimed  at  too  much.  They  could  find,  nowhere,  a  promise  of 
success  in  such  a  conflict.  They  are  still  men  of  passions;  of  human 
hates  as  well  as  human  loves;  now,  as  they  were  before  their  feet 
trampled  into  dust  the  throne.  No — their  battle  cry  and  their  dear 
hopes  were,  as  the  end  showed,  delusory  and  false;  made  up  of  such 
stuff  as  life's  mockeries  and  vainest  dreams  are. 

In  the  attainment  of  their  ends,  too,  how  often  do  we  find  these 
false  men  utterly  regardless  of  the  means  they  use  "?  In  their  chase  of 
some  fancied  good  thing^,  (and,  indeed,  the  endeavor  after  real  good,  is 
cursed  in  the  same  way,)  they  hesitate  not  to  cast  from  them,  with 
revilings,  the  rich  legacies  of  past  wisdom.  They  stop  not  to  count  the 
<308t.  They  look  not  down  to  see  in  what  crooked  ways  their  feet  are 
walking.  But,  with  their  eye  upon  the  distant  glimmer  of  light,  as 
they  suppose,  they  march  on,  rejeicing  only  in  the  result  they  anticipate. 
Let  the  end  come  somehow.  They  will  not  scan  the  means  too  narrowly. 
Bloodshed  and  stormy  days  will  come,  we  say  to  these  men.  They 
reply,  be  it  so.  The  tempest  will  not  last  forever,  and  when  it  is 
overpast,  then  vdll  the  eternal  stars  and  heaven's  blue  again  shine 
down  more  brightly  than  ever  through  the  riven  darkness.  See,  what 
desert  places  you  will  make.  True;  but  the  flowers  and  green  things 
will  spring  to  a  far  richer  life  and  beauty  where  the  desolation  and  the 
ruin  swept.  Look  at  the  death  you  will  scatter  upon  the  sea.  We 
know  it;  but  away  yonder,  where  ship  after  ship  is  foundering  and 
■going  down,  presently,  when  the  calm  has  come,  will  other  barks, 
laden  with  costlier  treasures  and  sweeter  blessings,  sail  hither  and 
thither,  and  know  nothing  of  disaster  or  wreck.  And  what  a  thing  of 
wickedness  is  this  !  It  has,  indeed,  come  to  pass  that  they  do  evil  that 
good  may  come.  Although  the  Providence,  the  Power  that  rules  the 
earth  and  has  no  rival,  does  again  and  again,  nay,  always  and  forever, 
bring  out  glorious  things  as  offspring  from  the  lowest  and  meanest 
maternities;  yet,  we  may  safely  say,  that  man  himself  can  find,  neither 
in  Heaven  nor  on  the  earth;  his  right  to  be  the  willing  and  foreseeing 


I   9  J 

agent  of  that  Higl»er  One,  in  these  things.  No  matter  what  wisdom  ho 
may  possess,  he  may  not  do  so.  Indeed,  the  more  truly  wise  he  is, 
the  more  certainly  will  he  see  the  utter  horribleness  and  deadly  sin  of 
such  course, 

A   ReforiMation  in  this  world  is  not  brought  about  in  a   day — in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye-     It  is  not  a  mere  from-sun-to-sun  work,  and  then 
the  worker  or  workers  may   lie  down  to  rest,  saying,  "It  is   done.'* 
The  life  of  one  generation  is  not  long  enough,  often,  for  such  a  purpose. 
That  which  follows  may  toil  in  the  same  field  with  results;  may  gather 
home  many  fruits.     Men  part  not  from  old  friends   except  with  tears 
and   troubled  spirits.     There  is  somewhat  abroad,  at  such  times,  that 
■can  be  seen  and  felt.    A  Reformation  is  not  accomplished  without 
much  overturning  and,  for  a  time,  confusion  and  uncertainty;  frightful 
jarrings  and   conflicts   very  possibly.     At  such  times  it  is  that  "deep 
calleth  unto  deep.     Anything  of  change  will  be  accompanied  by  such 
attendants.     How  important  is  it   then,  that  these  overturnings  and 
troublous  times  should  be  for  good  ]     What  a  sorrow  is  it  that  after  all 
the  result  has  proven  a  bitter  mockery,  and  that  alone?     That  nothing  at 
all  worth  the  outlay  has  been  garnered  up  1     That   after  this   painful 
and  fearful    winnowing,  no   piles    of  yellow  wheat  are  ready  for  the- 
storehouses?     How  sad  a  picture  to  gaze  upon,  when  a  land  has  beeni 
in  tears  long  on  account  of  strugglings  and  bitter  strifes;  when  the  fields- 
have  forgotten  their  harvest  times,  and  the  vineyards  have  been  bathed 
in  blood  before  the  vintage;  and  ystthe  moral  aspect  ia  no  better  than- 
before,  when  all  was  peaceful  and  full  of  quiet  life  1     It  would  be  welt 
for  those  who  so  much  trouble  the  world  for  nothing;  who  are  forever 
stumbling  upon  imaginary  wrongs  that  must  be  made  right;  who  are  so- 
fiery  and  loud-mouthed  in  their  preaching;  so  anxious  and  restless  till 
they  have  the  war  begun;  to  reflect  and  meditate  long  before  they  give 
life  to  these  tumults;  to  supplicate  Heaven  for  some  command  to  go  on 
before  they  rack  earth  with  convulsions.     Here,  indeed,  there  can  be 
no  danger  of  taking  too  much  care.     We  cannot  be  too  prodigal  ef  our 
moments  of  deliberation.     We  cannot  call  too  loudly  and  importunately 
upon  all  that  is  within  us,  of  thought  and  wisdom  and  foresight,  to  be 
our  counsellors. 

Those,  whose  common  appellation  is,  fanatics,  are  likely  the  worst 
men,  as  a  general  thing,  that  this  moral  world  of  ours  has  to  do  with. 
To  them  is  the  idea  of  an  erring  humanity,  as  applicable  to  themselves, 
altogether  unknown.  And  to  men  whose  motto  is,  "Truth  must 
prevail,"  and  who  believe  themselves  alone  the  champions  of  that 
truth,  we  cannot  think  it  strange  that  nothing  seems  a  hard  service; 
we  wonder  not  that  they  will  go  to  monstrous  lengths  in  furtherance  of 
their  views.  They  have  a  great  work  to  do,  and  they  must  give 
themselves  wholly   to  it,  regardless  of  anything  besides.     Agitation 


[  10  ] 

and  excitement  are  the  food  they  live  on;  they  find  disease  and  death 
in  all  other  feeding.  These  men  have  been  found,  in  all  ages,  to  be 
fearful  troubles  in  the  w^orld.  The  world  could  have  spared  them  well; 
would  have  felt  no  sense  of  loss  had  they  not  been  born. 

But  it  is  time  that  we  say  a  word  or  two  about  the  character  of  the 
true  Reformers.  And  here  we  may  gaze  upon  a  aifrer  picture.  If  we 
be  not  wholly  bad, we  may  find  delight  in  the  view  that  will  be  a  fitting 
recompense.  And  yet,  that  joy  is  many  times  changed  to  grief,  as  we 
turn  from  the  contemplation  of  the  man  himself,  and  look  upon  the 
record  that  tells  of  his  success.  It  is  so  brief,  so  unsatisfactory. 
Nay,  there  may  be  no  record,  for  he  has  achieved  nothing.  Though 
the  seed  was  thrown  out  broad-cast,  yet  the  stones,  whereon  it  fell 
have  given  him  back  no  harvest. 

Perhaps  the  most  striking  dissimilarity  between  the  true  and  the 
false  man  is,  that  the  latter  takes  with  his  fellow  men  quickly;  the  other 
not  till  after  long  years  of  labor.  He  may  die  before  the  day  of  his 
acceptation  comes.  This,  probably,  arises  from  the  fact  that  the  false 
man  adapts  his  views  to  mankind  as  he  finds  them.  There  is  little 
cutting  offer  adding  to  in  order  to  make  a  man  fit  the  measure  he  applies 
to  him.  It  requires  little  effort  to  follow  such  a  leader.  The  paths 
are  not  more  difficult,  though  new  ones,  than  those  his  feet  walked  in 
before.  In  the  other  case,  the  true  Reformer  has  his  standard  of 
measurement,  without  regard  at  all  to  whether,  if  he  went  out  to  see, 
he  could  find  any  one  that  would  fill  it  when  applied  to  him.  There 
is  pruning,  and  adding  to,  and  changing  with  him,  no  matter  to  whom 
his  visit  is  made.  His  object  is  not  to  have  troops  of  disciples  flock  to 
him.  He  is  the  disseminator  of  truth,  whether  men  will  hear  or  forbear. 
He  never  prostitutes  his  high  purpose  to  a  venal  popularity.  He 
courts  not  the  world's  smile.  He  deprecates  not  the  world's  scorn 
and  contumely.     He  differs  from  the  other  here. 

The  true  Reformer  panders  not  to  the  vitiated  tastes  of  men.  He 
denies  them,  bluntly  and  manfully,  when  their  wishes  are  unholy  and 
corrupt.  If  they  ask  for  a  scorpion,  he  boldly  tells  them,  they  can 
have  none,  either  now  or  in  all  time  to  come,  if  he  can  help  it.  Do 
they  desire  a  stone;  they  get  none  from  him,  though  they  plead  for  it 
fervently.  No  words  of  pleasantry  or  flattering  speech  will  have 
power  to  alter  his  resolution.  No  threatenings  or  menaces  of  hurt  will 
intimidate  or  make  him  afraid.  There  is  no  changing  of  position  with 
every  wind.  No  turaing  to  catch  the  sun's  smile.  No  shifting  about 
to  shun  the  peltings  of  the  storm,  when  it  rages  high.  God  above  has 
pointed  out  away  for  him  to  walk  in,  and  he  feels  that  it  will  be  wo 
and  death  to  him  if  he  turns  aside.  What  a  contrast  to  the  time-servers 
is  he  in  this  1  Again,  it  is  not  for  notoriety  that  he  lives.  He  is  no 
worshipper  of  the  tickle  goddess.     Fame  may   come  to  him,   and,  as 


[  11  ] 

she  sits  by  him,  may  tell  of  great  names  this  earth  will  not  forget;  may 
tell  of  a  roll  upon  which  they  are  written  for  an  everlasting  memorial. 
These  are  his  days  of  temptation.  The  syren  is  singing  sweetly  now. 
Our  wonder  is,  that  he  sinks  not  to  her  embrace,  and  is  lost.  But,  no; 
these  plaudits,  and  huzzas,  and  strewing  of  pathways  with  flowers^ 
which  the  idle  and  the  vain  love,  he  never  dreams  of,  as  he  walks^ 
He  will  likely  never  get  such  favors,  indeed;  although,  after  all,  earth 
may  have  no  nobler  son,  none  that  should  have  her  remembrance  so 
long  and  so  ever  fresh. 

As  far  up,  too,  in  the  scale  of  virtues  as  aught  else,  he  is  no  selfish 
man.  He  would  do  good  to  all  as  he  has  opportunity.  His  owa 
comfort,  in  opposition  to  duty,  he  will  cry  "avaunt"  to,  and  will  have 
none  of  it.  Like  the  Pagan  devotees,  he  will  afflict  himself  with  knives 
and  the  lash,  if  thereby  others  are  saved  from  suffering.  No  limits 
can  be  marked  down,  that  his  love  will  not  overleap.  There  are  no 
bounds,  like  the  seas  have,  to  his  philanthropy,  at  which  he  may  be 
stayed.  If,  after  having  made  happy  forever  this  world,  some  other 
lost  sphere,  in  its  circlings  through  space,  should  come  near  to  earth  and 
cry  aloud  for  helpers  and  saviors,  his  voice  would  be  first  and  loudest 
in  replying,  "we  come."  Nay,  nay;  were  the  "dim,  discrowned,  and 
tarnished  armies"  of  the  abyss  itself  to  look  farup  to  him  where  he  stood, 
and  beckon  to  him  to  save,  his  hand  would  stretch  itself  forth  to  snatch 
them  thence,  and  make  them  again  angels  in  the  Paradise  of  God. 

Moreover,  he  is  a  man  of  great  penetration  and  much  prudence. 
He  sees  hearts  in  faces,  as  he  passes  among  his  fellows.  Above  all,  he 
knows  when  hearts  speak  to  him,  whether  in  sorrow  or  in  joy.  He 
never  lets  zeal  for  his  duty  consume  him,  and  thus  give  offence.  He 
runs  into  no  crowded  places,  to  there  prate  of  his  calling  in  wild 
phrase  and  frantic  gesture.  He  gives  no  occasion  that  others  should 
name  him  madman  and  fool.  The  world  may  not  follow  after  him  in 
crowds,  and  pray  for  seats  about  his  feet  when  he  teaches;  but  it  will 
not  be  so  ready,  on  the  other  hand,  to  scoff"  at  him  and  make  a  by-word 
of  his  name.  He  knows  his  business  well.  He  pours  no  oil  upon  the 
flames;  nor  does  he  withhold  it  from  the  waters,  when  the  winds  dash 
the  stars  with  waves.  He  walks  the  earth  to  bless  it,  and  he  knows 
when,  and  where,  and  how  to  use  the  means. 

This  man  we  speak  of  is  a  working  man,  too.  What  he  finds  to  do, 
he  does  with  a  will  and  with  his  might.  He  labors  not  for  wages 
which  the  rust  will  eat  or  the  thieves  steal  away.  His  reward  is  a 
high  one;  a  glorious  prize  and  remuneration;  and  he  knows  well  that, 
sooner  or  later,  it  will  be  his.  A  crown,  a  palm  branch,  a  banner  of 
triumph  it  may  be;  but,  whatever,  he  abides  its  coming  patiently.  Apd 
for  all  this  we  should  love  him.  In  this  he  should  be  an  exemplar  and 
a  pattern  to  us  all.     To  work  is  man's  lot  here;  his  heritage;  his  liigh 


[  12   ] 

and  deligbtful  privilege,  if  we  can  see  it  in  that  light.  There  is  no 
time  for  idleness.  There  is  no  room  for  the  idle  ones.  We  ought  to 
be  busy  and  at  our  labor  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  Oh  !  if  at  this 
hour,  we  could  pass  on,  with  imagination  for  guide,  and  stand  with  her 
by  the  couch  side,  whether  many  years  hence  or  soon,  when  we 
ourselves  were  laid  down  to  die,  what  lamentations  over  mis-spent 
time  would  not  break  from  our  pale  lips !  What  regrets,  now  fruitless, 
that  we  had  not  worked  before  the  night  came  on !  How  golden 
would  not  be  the  long  past  and  neglected  moments  !  What  calls  to 
duty  would  they  not  utter  as  they  sped  away !  This  is  no  slight  eulogy, 
to  say  of  any  man — he  is  a  worker. 

It  may  be  thought,  that  is  all  too  perfect.  That  this  blinded  world 
has,  in  all  its  time,  known  no  such  guide.  Without  admitting  the  truth 
of  this,  we  sayj  be  it  so;  but  still,  the  one  we  pattern  after  should  be  a 
perfect  being,  though  our  following  may  only  be  afar  off.  If  he  be  on 
the  mountain-top,  with  the  light  about  him,  like  a  glory,  let  our 
endeavor  be  to  stand  beside  him  there,  though  we  never  reach  further 
than  that  mountain's  base. 

As  this  man's  life  is  one  of  labor,  it  cannot  otherwise  be  but  that  he 
■will  have  many  and  huge  difficulties  to  cope  with,  and  overcome  if  he 
may.  For  though,  as  we  set  out  with,  the  world  is  restless  and  given 
to  change,  ever  girding  itself  and  putting  on  its  sandals,  like  a  pilgrim, 
for  another  advance,  the  journey  of  another  day,  yet,  so  liable  is  it  to 
run  away  to  every  cry  of  "Lo,  here" — so  apt,  in  its  weakness  and. 
sinfulness,  to  follow  after  the  false  lights,  that  the  true  man  finds  it  no 
easy  task  to  teach  it  knowledge.  If  he  come  into  the  groves  where 
the  world's  idols  are  set  up,  and  proclaim  overthrow  and  destruction 
to  them,  will  the  worshippers  not  resist  and  struggle  against  their 
doom  ]  Will  they  not  stand  up  and  fight  with  the  intruder  for  the 
images  they  lore  1  And  it  matters  not  whether  we  speak  of  men 
highly  civilized,  or  those  in  the  lowest  grade  of  civilization,  it  is  still 
true.  Those  embraced  in  the  latter  denomination  have,  indeed,  at  best, 
but  the  dimmest  idea  of  progress.  In  the  wilder  countries,  the  old 
superstitions  are  the  rulers.  Those  rude  men  will  not  give  them  up 
willingly.  The  chains  that  bind  them  they  look  upon  as  means  of 
salvation,  and  not  as  tokens  of  horrible  debasement.  Tradition  has 
uttered  her  voice,  and  with  them  she  is  an  oracle  and  lies  not.  Mahomet 
found  this  so,  when  he  went  through  the  Eastern  lands,  twelve  centuries 
ago,  preaching  against  Sabaeanism,  and  the  Sadducees,  and  the  darkness 
of  Pagan  night. 

The  true  Reformer  has  the  envy  that  is  found  in  this  world,  to 
contend  with;  that  which  is  so  slow  in  giving  the  good  man  credit  for 
his  uprightness,  and  the  honest  one  for  his  purity  of  life.  The  hio-her, 
too,  the  place  whereon  the  true  man  stands,  the  more  deadly-poisoned 


[   13   ] 

the  arrows  that  seek  his  heart.  The  dart  of  this  envy  is  like  Death's; 
It  loves  best  a  shining  mark.  A  good  name,  in  man  or  w^oman,  is  a 
jewel  of  no  gold  and  silver  price.  The  diamonds  of  the  mine  have  no 
value  like  it.  The  prince  upon  his  throne  is  a  wretch  without  it.  The 
lowest  and  meanest  will  fight  with  the  calumniator,  as  with  one  that 
would  murder  him.  Well,  with  the  traducer  and  the  vilifier  has  this 
man  of  ours  to  struggle,  often  and  often.  His  first  work,  where  he 
stops  to  teach,  will  many  a  time  be  the  wiping  uiF  of  spots  from  his 
fair  fame;  the  silencing  and  rendering  dumb  the  tongues  that  are  busy 
with  his  life  and  his  motives.  And  how  bitter  must  such  a  trial  be! 
The  generous  and  noble  will  be  borne  down,  as  by  a  mountain  of 
anguish,  if  this  fearful  task  be  his  but  once;  will  he  not  be  crushed 
utterly  and  forever,  if  it  be  for  him  to  do,  again  and  again  ]  Alas,  he 
knows  what  sore  temptations  mean.  He  knows  what  trials  and  troubles 
this  earth  has  for  her  wisest  and  best.  He  knows  what  sighings  for 
the  grave's  repose  are,  for  the  sorrow  that  gives  birth  to  such  he  has 
felt. 

The  life  of  this  man  is  not  one  long  holiday,  with  the  summer  sky 
overhead,  and  the  summer  green  spots  beneath  his  feet.  It  is  not 
given  him,  yet,  to  walk  by  the  still  waters  and  to  lie  down  where  the 
roses  bloom.  The  music  of  the  lute  is  not  for  him;  nor  the  songs  of 
maidens.  With  the  dancers  amid  the  vines  of  sunny  lands  he  may  not 
be  a  mingler.  A  worker  we  have  called  him,  but  he  is  more.  It  is 
not  the  calmness  and  peace  of  the  husbandman,  as  be  ploughs  his 
hill-sides,  and  cuts  down  his  meadows,  that  are  his.  His  is  a  stirring, 
stormy,  rough  life.  Why,  he  is  a  wrestler  with  the  strong  of  earth's 
errors,  on  an  arena  wide  as  this  globe;  a  fighter  within  a  more  than 
Roman  amphitheatre,  and  against  fiercer  than  Roman  beasts.  Should 
not  men  shout  his  triumph  when  a  victor,  and  weep  over  him  when 
he  bleeds  1  Oh  !  that  it  were  no  heresy  to  say  of  this  poor  nature  of 
ours,  that  it  pants  for  the  true  and  the  good  !  That  when  the  two, 
evil  and  righteousness,  are  held  forth  to  it,  like  gifts  for  its  choice,  it 
will  sieze  eagerly  the  latter,  and  will  have  none  of  the  other!  Th^n, 
indeed,  would  Truth's  champion  shed  fewer  tears.  Then  would  his 
voice  have  a  trumpet  tone,  and  not  be  so  like  a  wail  in  its  sadness. 
Then  would  his  walk  through  the  lands  be  kingly  in  its  stateliness. 
Then  would  victory  evermore  and  always  shower  down  garlands  upon 
him  for  his  crowning. 

Such,  hastily  and  wildly  sketched,  are  these  two — the  True  and  the 
False —  which  is  the  better'?  They  would  both  be  leaders  to  you — 
which  of  them  is  the  surer,  trustier  guide  1  They  would  both  be  your 
teachers — the  lessons  of  which  of  them  will  you  lay  to  heart  and 
ponder  well?  Over  the  one  may  we  not  grieve,  because  of  talents 
misapplied  and  thrown  away,  of  time  wasted  and  lost,  of  much  wrong 


[  14  ] 

and  evil  wrought  on  the  earth  and  among  men?  Over  the  other  may 
v^e  not  rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad  all  his  life  through;  and  when  he 
dies,  at  the  grave  where  they  lay  him  to  his  last  rest,  may  we  not  well 
sing  with  the  Poet — 

"Such  graves  as  liis  are  sacred  shrines, 

Shrines  to  no  creed  or  sect  confined; 
The  Delphian  vales — ^the  Palestines — 

The  Meccas  of  the  mind." 


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